


Don't You Dare

by Daisyishedwig



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Depression, Hospitalization, M/M, S4 Breakup, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 09:41:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12956526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisyishedwig/pseuds/Daisyishedwig
Summary: After the breakup Kurt calls Burt and tells him to collect anything that's in his room that belongs to Blaine and take it over to his house. When no one answers the door Burt goes in planning on just putting the box on the bed. He didn't expect to see Blaine passed out on the floor with his wrists slit.





	1. Chapter 1

Burt stood in the doorway of his son’s room with a box in his arm. The place seemed to empty. Not only was most of Kurt’s stuff now in New York with him, but what little he left behind had mostly belonged to Blaine. 

Just a couple of hours ago Kurt had called his father and told him to get rid of anything that belonged to Blaine or involved Blaine in the least. Burt didn’t get an explanation as to why but he didn’t really need one. It was obviously a breakup. 

He turned, closing the door behind him and heading down to the car. He dropped the box in the passenger seat and climbed in the driver’s side. He looked at the picture of the two boys at prom sitting on top of everything else in the box with sad eyes as he started the car. Kurt had told him he could just throw everything away but he figured he would leave it up to Blaine whether this stuff was meant for the dumpster or not. 

He pulled out of the driveway, following the familiar roads to his son’s ex-boyfriend’s house. He was still always in awe at how beautiful a neighbourhood Blaine lived in. 

Burt parallel parked across the street from Blaine’s house, hopping out of the car and pulling the box from the passenger side. The driveway was empty as it normally was. Blaine’s parents were hardly ever home. 

He slowly made his way to the door and rang the doorbell.

He waited for a couple of minutes but there was no answer.

He knocked.

Still no answer.

He tried a couple of more times but still no one appeared at the door.

He sighed, and turned the door handle, cautiously. It was open. He glanced around before fully opening the door and entering. The house was dark. Blaine must have gone somewhere.

Burt looked around for a minute, deciding he would just leave the box on Blaine’s bed. He climbed the grand spiral staircase up to the second floor, finding the second door on the left. He cracked the door open. The light was off in there to. He went in. 

He studied the room for a minute. It was in perfect order all except a picture frame lying in the floor. Burt approached it, leaning over to pick it up. He froze in position. A pale hand was stretched out towards the picture from the other side of the bed. 

Burt dropped the box. It crashed to the floor loudly but the fingers didn’t even twitch.

“Blaine?” Burt breathed.

No answer.

Burt made his way to the other side of the bed. Blaine was lying on his side, partially covered by the bed skirt. His knees were pulled close to his chest. He looked as though he’d been huddled in a ball and had fallen over as he passed out. His wrists were slit, blood pooling from them onto the carpet.

His dark hair fell in messy curls over his face in a weird contrast to how pale his skin was. Burt couldn’t tell if Blaine was breathing, but then again, he was having trouble remembering how to breathe himself.

He collapsed to his knees, grabbing the boy. He watched his tear stained face as he pressed his fingers to his neck. There was pulse but it was very faint. 

Burt struggled to get his phone out of his pocket and punch in 911. 

“Lima police department, what is your emergency?”

“I-I... my... my son’s.... I don’t know... he slit his wrists,” Burt was trying to keep it together. If he couldn’t be calm, Blaine would die, “He tried to kill himself,” Burt’s words were coming out too fast. He didn’t know if she could understand him.

“Sir, what is your address?”

Burt stumbled over his words, almost giving the operator  _ his  _ house address.

“Please hurry,” he cried, dropping the phone, “Blaine, Blaine, buddy, open your eyes.” He lightly slapped his face, hoping for any reaction he could get. He pulled his jacket off, wrapping it tightly around Blaine’s wrists, trying to stop the flow.

“Blaine, it’s Mr. Hummel. Open your eyes.  _ Now. _ ” He clutched Blaine to his chest, crying into his hair, “Don’t you die on me. Don’t you do this. Not to Kurt. Don’t you dare.”


	2. Chapter 2

A soft beeping noise filled his ears and he knew that he had failed. Either that, or wherever he went after death was sick and wanted to terrify him with the thought of being alive. He wished it was the latter. The thick smell of antiseptic and bright lights behind his lids, plus the restraints holding him to the bed told him it was the first. 

The only questions he had were why and how. He wanted to die, he deserved to die, so why was it that he kept failing at it. He’d failed when he was fourteen, he’d been pulled from the brink by a beautiful boy with glasz eyes when he was fifteen (though he never knew), and now he had somehow failed again. Why?

Second question, how? His parents were out of town, Cooper was in LA, Kurt was in New York and wasn’t speaking to him (rightfully so), and the entire Glee club was mad at him for what he’d done. No one should have come over. No one should have found him. How was he still here?

A voice talking quietly pierced his thoughts. 

“I know you want to talk to him… No, he’s not awake yet… I’m not sure… Buddy, I don’t think… I know… he doesn’t… he probably won’t… Kurt!”

Blaine sucked in a sharp breath.

“He may not want to see you, buddy,” the voice said again.

Blaine’s heart rose to his throat. Didn’t want to see Kurt? He’d always want to see Kurt. No matter what. The question was, did Kurt want to see him?

He made a noise of discontent in the back of his throat and the voice fell silent.

“I gotta go, I think he’s finally waking up… yes, I’ll ask him, and I’ll send Finn to pick you up from the airport, okay?... Yeah, I love you too, Son.” The voice shuffled closer and sat down beside him. “Blaine?” they questioned quietly, reaching out to grip his hand.

Blaine rolled his head back and forth on the pillow, his eyelids were heavy and refused to lift and his mouth kept working around a word but no noise was coming out.

“Blaine, buddy, can you open your eyes?”

He groaned, no, no he most definitely could not. 

“Kurr--” he broke off, his voice hoarse and his throat sore.

“It’s okay, Blaine, he’s coming. Can you please open your eyes for me?” they gripped his hand tighter and his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out who would care some much. Everyone hated him.  _ He  _ hated him. 

“H-hur-ts,” he mumbled, “B-ight.”

“Oh,” the voice moved away again and the brightness behind his eyelids switched off. He blinked slowly, his lids still weighted down, but it was getting easier.

“There you are,” he turned his head and gasped in surprise.

“Mr. H-hum-mel?” The only person who could and should hate him as much if not more than Kurt was Burt. But here he was, at his bedside, when his own parents weren’t even there, and most likely wouldn’t be.

He smiled at him, his eyes kind but his forehead still creased with worry, “How are you feeling?”

Blaine swallowed, looking around, “T-tired? And-and th-thirs-ty.”

“I bet, almost dying can do that to you,” Blaine lowered his eyes to the blanket, his lips quivering. Burt poured him a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table and held it to his lips. Blaine drank thirstily, finishing the glass before letting out a long breath.

“Wh-why are you here?” he asked his voice not shaking as much but still quiet and timid. Whether that was because he was so tired or because he was scared, Blaine wasn’t sure.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“You should hate me,” Blaine muttered, sinking back into the bed, wishing he could just disappear.Burt hating him would be better than him caring and worrying. It just made him feel worse.

“I think you’re doing enough of that for the both of us, Blaine,” Burt said, tapping the bandages around his wrists gently.

Blaine sniffled, trying to pull his arms to his chest but the restraints kept them locked to his sides. 

“You don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to, but can I ask why?”

Blaine’s eyes flitted to Burt’s before he stared resolutely at the ceiling. “I-I can’t… I can’t get his f-face out… out of my-my head. The-the disapoint-pointment and the p-pain. Everyone ha-hates me. I was doing them a f-favor.”

Burt frowned sadly, “No one wants you dead, son.”

Blaine’s heart leapt into his throat and he made a pained noise before whispering, “I want me dead.”

Burt pressed his lips together, thinking. Before he could come up with a response Blaine spoke again.

“Who found me?” Blaine asked, brow furrowed in confusion, “I-I was home alone, my parents are out of town, no one is talking to me, there would have been no reason for anyone to come by…”

“I was… dropping off some stuff,” Burt mumbled, not wanting to make Blaine feel any worse.

“Kurt’s stuff?” Blaine’s voice cracked, his face scrunching up as he fought off tears.

“Yeah…”

Blaine nodded, “S-sorry you had to… see that,” he mumbled, eyes lowered to the sheets.

“I’m not,” Burt said firmly, “If I hadn’t have been there you would be dead right now.”

“And everyone would be better off.”

“No one wants you dead, Blaine,” Burt was trying to keep calm but he had no clue how to convince him that he didn’t deserve to die.

“Yeah, they just don’t want me around.”

Burt was struck silent. He didn’t know how to dispute that statement, since it seemed to be entirely true. Finn had told him that the whole Glee club had pulled away from Blaine after the breakup, even the newbies who didn’t know Kurt at all had decided to side with legacy students. Blaine had been alone in the huge house of his with no one to listen to him or hear how the breakup was affecting him. No one cared.

“Kurt’s catching the first flight he can,” Burt said, changing the subject.

“You should…” Blaine swallowed hard like he was trying to force the words out, “you should c-call him back, tell him not to come, he shouldn’t waste the mon-money.”

“And why not?” 

“I’m not worth it,” Blaine whispered, his eyes flicking to Burt for a split second before returning to the blanket.

“You’re wrong,” Burt said, shaking his head, “and if Kurt knew you were thinking like that he’d be tracking down The Doctor and stealing the TARDIS just so he could be here right now.”

Blaine huffed out a short, watery laugh.

“But before he gets here, you should probably get some more rest, you already look like you’re about ready to pass out.”

Blaine nodded, eyelids already drooping.

“He’ll be here when you wake up and everything will be fine.”

Blaine hummed sleepily and they both wished that it was true.


End file.
